


Just mindless sex?

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [73]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Sex, F/M, Feels, Friends to Lovers, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Frustrated with her unrequited feelings for Jaime, Brienne decides to let off some steam one night at a pub, ready to de-stress with the first stranger she meets.Only, it isn't a stranger she runs into.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [73]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 16
Kudos: 125





	Just mindless sex?

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did say I'd take a break from smut. But I found this buried in one of my folders-one of those written in an impulse but I had missed out posting.  
> Those who've had too much of my smut, feel free to skip this :)

“Hey,” he greets her, eyeing her from top to toe with curiosity. “What’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?” 

Brienne pauses, slightly giddy from the vodka she isn’t accustomed to, from the loud music she isn’t a frequent audience to. “How come you’re alone tonight?” She glances around to make sure he isn’t here with company. “Where’s your usual gang of admirers—” Even as she speaks, there’s a redhead trying to catch his attention. And that gets her pulse rising. “What’s a man like you doing without company in a place like this?”

Jaime sets his glass down on her table. “You know I don’t crave such company, wench.”

“What do you crave then?” she goes on, conveniently ignoring that she’s totally ignoring his question.

“To start with—” he takes her hand, pulls her to her feet “—a dance.” Wasting no time, he leads her to where the action is, yet, a corner away from the bright lights where no one can see them clearly. “Now tell me,” he says, draping his arms around her waist. “Why the hell are you drinking alone?”

_Because I—_

If only it were that easy to confide in him… If only he were the friend she didn’t have feelings for… If only this—this dance, this closeness didn’t affect her this much.

“You’re here by yourself on a Friday night,” he continues, when she hesitates to speak up. “What are you looking for—”

“Mindless sex,” she spits it out, or to put it correctly, her hormones cry out. “Jaime, I—”

He pulls her closer, kisses her hard on the mouth, strong arms holding her tight. She’s supposed to withdraw, to tell him this is a huge mistake, but his whiskey, when she gets a deeper taste of him, mates with her vodka, leaving her moaning and helpless in his arms, thirsty for more. The scent of his sweat, his aftershave and everything that makes up his raw sex appeal drifts up her nostrils, messes with her logic, and her body craves it all, lusts for him. The heat of his chest against hers, the pressure of his lips, the wild aggression of his tongue—it all feels so good that, for once, she just wants to let down her hair and let go.

Mindless sex with the man who’s as drunk as her, a friend who’s fond of her, but just that—it’s a terrible idea that’ll only lead to heartburns and regrets when they’re both sober. Yes, sex with no strings attached was what she’d come here for. She’d come here in the hope of meeting someone, someone she could let off the steam without feelings getting in the way.

So no, not Jaime, this is not what she—

But when he deepens the kiss, his fingers gliding down her back, when he cups her ass, she presses closer, lets her hands freely roam his bicep, his chest, his tight abs. She can feel his cock straining against his jeans, the bulge hard and itching for freedom. Sighing, she takes the kiss another step further, tastes him, grinds her hips against his erection to the music’s thudding beat. 

_Yes. Jaime,_ says a throb in her pussy, wills him to go all the way, but he withdraws.

“Brienne—” he looks deep into her eyes, as if wants to be doubly sure “—do you really—”

She edges closer, lips almost on his, just short of devouring him again. “What did you come here for tonight, Jaime?”

The blazing intensity of his gaze doesn’t need the accompaniment of words. But he does reply, nevertheless.

“Mindless sex.”

+++++

That they managed to get to his place without tearing each other’s clothes off on the way is a huge miracle.

But as soon as they’re indoors, the restraint is gone, the shackles broken. He shoves her to the wall and kisses her fiercely. And she sings along, meets the urgency of his kisses and his throaty hums with her own. _Is this even right,_ asks a still-sober corner of her, but when his rock-hard shaft digs into her flesh, his need as pressing as hers, that flicker of doubt is extinguished.

_Mindless sex. That’s all this is._

He fumbles with her blouse, frees her tits from her bra and grabs one in his mouth hungrily. She clumsily gets to his belt, his jeans, fishes out his cock and soaks in the wonderful feel of him in her fingers.

_Yes, fucking. That’s all I want._

Hot and needy, he throbs in her hand, and she in his, when he hoists her skirt up and slips a finger into her panties. She runs a fingertip, balls to tip, whilst he teases the length of her slit. He twitches, stiffening at her touch, glistening in anticipation, and she—hells, she suffers from the same desperation as him! 

Alcohol and aftershave and her own flowery fragrance, they mingle with the scents of his arousal and hers. This is too much, so much that she can barely stand, barely feel anything but what he’s doing to her.

She strokes him, and he fucks her with his fingers, her thumb on his head, his on her clit. Eyes engaging in a passionate dance of their own, they go on, slow and sensual to hard and heated. He pants, she pants with him. He grunts, and she greets it with a whimper when he drives her up the wall. 

With their free hands, they hold each other, try to keep steady, try to battle this onslaught, but when they cannot anymore, they let go, almost simultaneously.

“ _You_ ,” is all he says, and grabbing her hand, he pushes her on the couch, yanking down her skirt and the drenched mess of her panties out of his way.

 _Yes, you,_ every inch of her agrees, when he mounts her, his cock kissing her soaked folds.

One thrust, that’s all it takes for him to slide in smoothly. He fills her with long, deep strokes, kissing her hard, fucking her even harder. This isn’t quite what she imagined would ever happen between them, but it’s far more intense. A drunken one-night stand, that’s all this will ever be remembered as, but why does it feel so apt? Why does he feel so perfect inside her? 

Why does this night feel more than just a dalliance?

He gets rough, grunts like a wild animal. All the way in, then out—he’s the sword, and she, the sheath.

Why does this feel like they’re made for each other?

Sex is all this is, but why is this getting deeper than that?

He tenses, and she holds him. He exhales deeply, and his heat, his lust—she can feel him spreading all over her, in every cell and deep within. She can feel his thighs shiver, his knees tremble atop her, and she can feel her own orgasm grow inside, creep up on her, tingling, rising with every plunge of his cock, with every swipe and every press of his thumb on her clit.

_Yes, you._

It's chasing her, in hot pursuit, close on her heels, or is she chasing it? She can feel it getting closer now, close as hell. Desperate for release, she rubs his thumb up and down on her clit, drives him up to furiously fiery strokes. 

_Yes—_

She can feel it mounting, the pressure, the tension, _him_ —

It’s on her now, just within reach. Yes, it—it is—she’s almost there. She can feel every inch of her thrumming, swaying to his tune.

His thrusts keep coming, stretching her, blinding her. She shuts her eyes, wraps her legs around him, opens herself wider, opens herself to the giddiness, this clenching, this coiling in her belly, every muscle closing down on her, caving in before—

“Yes,” she cries, delirious with bliss. 

Panting, she slowly opens her eyes, looks deep into his. He pauses to catch his breath, then goes again, rushing after his own release.

His breathing gets heavier; his chest heaving, she can feel his pulse escalate, and with it, soars the desperation in the kisses he steals.

When he can't last anymore, he lets go with a guttural groan, his pumping ceasing, shivering towards a halt. His lips brush her nipple, his whole body shudders when he pulls out, jerks himself to a release on her thigh.

He buries his face in her breasts, breathes with her, recovers with her.

When he looks up, green eyes meeting hers, Brienne can’t keep it to herself anymore. “I wasn't entirely truthful to you earlier,” she admits, despite knowing she might run the risk of losing a friend. “While I did go out looking for a hot, wild fuck, I wouldn't really have gone home with a stranger.”

“I lied, too.” He smiles, presses his forehead to hers. “I wasn't looking for a one-night stand, Brienne. Sansa told me I could find you at the pub—”

“Wait—” she stops him, worried if the vodka’s playing tricks on her mind. “Jaime, what do you mean—” 

“ _You_ ,” he says, placing a tender kiss on the tip of her nose, his eyes telling her that, yes, this is real. 


End file.
